In her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is viciously attacked by Draco Malfoy and his gang, whilst taking a risky short cut from the library one night. This incident draws her into a deep depression she may not escape. AU, NC! OOC Hermione.

All related names, places etc. are
owned primarily by J.K Rowling, and owned and copyrighted by Warner
Bros.

A/N: This first chapter will be quite
heavy, as I have a very bad incident happen straight off, so be
warned, it may be uncomfortable reading. Unfortunately, this frankly
horrible event is integral to the plot. I would also like to say I
don't dislike Hermione despite what I put her through, and sorry to
all Draco lovers for making him so vile. Don't be discouraged:)

The
Forbidden Corridor

At the end
of a late-night study session in the Library at Hogwarts, Britain's
most prestigious school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger
looked at the clock, reading half past ten, and yawned. Madam Pince
rolled her eyes and impatiently tapped at her bare wrist, indicating
that Hermione's time was up and she should quit the library for the
day.

Sighing,
Hermione gathered her books and parchments, recorked her ink bottles,
and, stuffing them into her bag, proceeded out of the library, with a
friendly "good night" to Madam Pince, who nodded briefly in
reply.

Heading
back to the Gryffindor common room, she found her route
inconveniently blocked by a marsh of Peeves' creation, the ability
to pull such stunts bequeathed to him by Fred and George Weasley who
had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory after tiring of Umbridge's
tyranny last year. Sighing, Hermione knew she would have to take the
detour to the common room via the third floor corridor.

It was
unsafe, Dumbledore had said to use the corridor after dark. There was
no lighting, the walls bore no sentient paintings, and rumour had it
that even Hogwarts' most fearsome spirit, Slytherin's Bloody
Baron, refused to haunt this walkway

Nevertheless,
Hermione was tired, and desperate to sink beneath her warm, clean
feathery duvet, to drift into blissful sleep, perchance to dream up
some more answers to slip into her Runes essay. Besides, she had
taken this path many times with her best friends, Harry Potter and
Ron Weasley, and nothing untoward had ever happened.

"Lumos,"
she whispered to her wand, and a bright ray of light emanated from
her vine-wood and dragon heartstring wand. She walked briskly along
the dank stone corridor, keen to get back to her dormitory. She
ignored the occasional shuffling sound behind her, putting it down to
the spirits in the castle.

She was
nearing the end of the corridor closest to the Gryffindor common
room, when a pale, cold hand reached out and clamped a hand on her
mouth.

"Hello,
Granger," an equally cold voice hissed.

Hermione
felt strong, chunky fingers from a hot hand grab her right arm and
twist it violently up her back. She refused, however, to relent the
grip on her lit wand.

Another
icy hand, much like the one upon her mouth, began to caress her neck.
"Come on, dear," the voice whispered coldly. "Drop the wand."

"No,"
Hermione hissed behind the freezing cupped hand.

"Okay,"
the voice, which Hermione recognised a belonging to Draco Malfoy.
"The price you pay for non-compliance is simple. Vincent, break the
bitch's arm."

Hermione's
other assailant, Malfoy's second-in-command, Vincent Crabbe,
twisted Hermione's arm even further up her back, at an unnatural
angle. She screamed in agony, as a burning pain shot from her
shoulder to her wrist; she heard three snaps and two pops as her arm
broke in several places at ones, and her wrist and shoulder
dislocated, yet still she retained a death-grip on her precious wand.

Hermione
felt two chunky arms, belonging to Gregory Goyle, Malfoy's other
henchman. The tree-trunk like limbs wrapped so tightly around her,
she felt a burning pain as two of her ribs broke as Goyle squeezed
her tighter and tighter, so that she couldn't breathe, let alone
scream. Perhaps mercifully so, because Hermione was sure if she did
scream, her punishment would be worse.

Malfoy
gave Goyle an appraising look, knowing what he'd just done. He
produced his wand, a black onyx wand bought for him by his father a
few short months before he was unjustly, in Malfoy's eyes, sent to
Azkaban. He pointed it at Hermione's painful, shaking hand.
"Sectumsempra!" he
hollered, moving his new wand in a slashing motion.

Before
Hermione had time to realise it was not the traditional Expelliarmus
spell associated with disarming, she
felt a sharp pain, like a dagger had just ripped through her arm, and
this time she couldn't help but scream. Wet, warm blood poured down
her hand and onto her wand, dulling the light and giving it a crimson
glow. She fought back tears, determined not to let Malfoy see her
cry.

She could
see his thin pale face leering at her, bathed in bloody light. He
shook his head.

"Throw
the bitch on the floor," he commanded to Goyle, who obliged,
putting his ample weight behind the toss, sending Hermione, minus her
bag, hurtling against a limestone wall, which cracked her right jaw,
before she tumbled to the floor.

Hermione
nodded, her jaw causing her considerable pain as she did, which made
her whimper. Malfoy slapped her sharply across the face for daring to
make such a noise. Meanwhile, Goyle and Crabbe were emptying the
contents of her bag on the floor, and destroying the contents: her
textbooks, her hard work, which was all for nothing. She heard a
bottle of ink smash near her left ear, only to find it had been
thrown at her on purpose, the bottle had hit her face, and some
shards of the crystal phial had embedded themselves in her raw cheek
She tasted the bitter liquid as it dribbled into her mouth.

Now Malfoy
was kneeling by her body, a hand burrowing into her blouse. "Hey,"
he said in a sinister soft voice, which chilled Hermione. "Hey
baby, don't cry. All you've got to do is drop your wand, and
we'll leave you be. Okay?"

Foolishly,
Hermione believed him. Slowly, she uncurled the swollen fingers on
her injured hand, letting her wand roll to the floor.

"Good
girl," whispered Malfoy, above the ripping sounds that were still
echoing around the corridor. "For that, you get a reward." He
knelt astride Hermione, and roughly pulled her shirt open, and tugged
it from her shoulders, causing it to tear nearly in half. He reached
behind her, bearing his weight down on her so she wouldn't
struggle, as he removed her bra, white and lacy, surprisingly sexy
for the Mudblood brainiac.

"Very
nice," Malfoy drawled, taking a nipple into his mouth and biting on
it hard. When Hermione squealed in discomfort, he slapped her once
again, driving the glass further into her face.

"There,"
he said, reaching for Hermione's jeans and unbuttoning them,
pulling them roughly down, along with her panties. Clutching his
wand, he rested the tip of it on Hermione's thigh. "Diffindio!"
he snarled, as the sturdy material ripped, from crotch down to the
leg, and all Malfoy had to do was pull those, and her useless, cut-up
panties, to one side.

Quickly
and unexpectedly, he then thrust his wand between Hermione's legs.
She bit her lip to keep from making a sound as the cold wand was
pushed roughly inside her, and winced as Malfoy moved it carelessly
inside her.

"What's
that?" he growled. "Enjoying that? Want something more…
spectacular? Well, that can be arranged." He withdrew, and
discarded his dirty, bloodied wand, and reached to unzip himself.

Hermione
knew what was coming, but had no idea that evil Malfoy could do
something this bad, this nasty, and this corrupt. As it happened, she
screwed up her eyes, partly in pain, partly because she didn't want
to witness what was happening to her.

Pinning
her shoulders to the ground, especially leaning on her injured right
side, Malfoy made the experience all the worse for Hermione. To stop
her eyes from desperately leaking the tears she so wanted to shed,
she began screaming out.

Reluctantly,
Hermione opened her eyes wide and found her head wrenched to the
side, where she could see the shadows of Crabbe and Goyle watching
Hermione take her 'punishment' from Malfoy.

Finally,
Malfoy decided enough was enough. He tucked his shame away, picked up
his wand, and stood up, making sure to tread hard on Hermione's
right ankle as he did. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it,
Granger?" he said sweetly, as he wiped his wand on his jet-black
robes. "Greg, it's your turn."

It started
happening again, only this time, with the weight of Goyle bearing
down on her broken ribs, it was even more uncomfortable for Hermione.
Her lungs were squashed flat and she couldn't breathe. Just as she
was about to collapse into a sweet oblivion, she felt Goyle finally
release her. As she took a cleansing gulp of air, she felt a foot in
her face, which broke her nose and split her septum.

"Vince!"
Malfoy chided Crabbe in mock horror. "Did you really need to do
that to such a beautiful lady?"

Crabbe
snorted. "Well, she ain't so beautiful now, is she," he
scoffed, poking Hermione in the ribs, exactly where one of the broken
ones was. The pain was so bad, she finally passed out, and her head
slumped to one side.

By the
time she came round, she found Crabbe, kneeling over her. He had
obviously got what he wanted from her defenceless, unconscious body,
and was about to leave her, used and discarded, where she was. "She's
a good ride," Crabbe said as he got to his feet. "For a filthy
little Mudblood."

Malfoy
knelt down next to the stricken Hermione and stroked her hair, damp
with terror sweat. "Did you enjoy that, sweetness?" he asked,
kissing her forehead cynically.

Hermione
lay there whimpering in pain, trying hard not to let tears come to
her eyes. Why did you do that to me? she
wanted to ask Malfoy. Do you hate me that much? Just give me a
reason, and I'll never tell a soul… Just leave me alone.

"What's
that?" Malfoy asked. "You did? You want some more?"

Hermione
shook her head stiffly, eyes wide. She was too afraid to close them.

"We'll
do this again sometime," Malfoy said, in a mock-reassuring voice.
"You'll get used to it, don't worry." He picked up Hermione's
torn knickers and shoved them in his pocket. "I'll keep these to
remind me of the good times we had." He indicated Hermione's
other clothes to his cronies. "Greg… Vince… help yourselves."

Crabbe and
Goyle gathered up the remainder of Hermione's torn clothes, and
began to walk away.

"See you
around, sweetheart," Malfoy snorted, following his cronies, kicking
Hermione hard in the ribs as he left her

Unable to
get up, her broken ankle swollen to twice its size now, Hermione
Granger lay naked and ashamed, freezing in the cold corridor. Why had
she let it happen? She could have fought Malfoy off; she remembered
the incident from three years ago when she had socked him in the nose
for calling her a 'filthy little Mudblood'. Why hadn't she done
it just then? The light of her wand was dying away as her resolve to
keep the beam burning slipped away. Her body ached all over, but her
mind felt numb. She didn't understand what Malfoy and his friends
had done to her. How could one human being have done that to another?

Safe in
the knowledge that Malfoy and his buddies were far away, probably
laughing about the incident in the Slytherin common room, or reliving
it wrapped in their fetid sheets, Hermione finally allowed herself to
cry.

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